


Texts from ARC #512

by verdreht



Series: Works Inspired by Texts from ARC [2]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Becker is kind of a sociopath some days, But we love him for it, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash If You Squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdreht/pseuds/verdreht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Becker narrowed his eyes at her back. Throwing him under the bus. Although. "I just gave them some incentive to leave," he said in his own defence, then frowned almost thoughtfully. "I don't think everyone found it as funny as I did." He shrugged. No accounting for taste. Not his problem. "Nothing says 'party's over' like the sound of a pump action shotgun.""</p>
            </blockquote>





	Texts from ARC #512

**Author's Note:**

> #512: I don't think everyone found it as funny as I did...Nothing says "Party's Over" like the sound of a pump action shotgun.

It was a routine alert. As routine as these things went, anyway.

The alarm sounded that evening, during the crucial five minutes between the time Becker finally finished his paperwork for the day and the time he was due to clock out for the week. He'd be on call for the weekend – freak portals through time and the creatures that passed through them didn't recognize weekly holidays, the inconsiderate bastards – but by and large, all that stood between him and two days of an Indiana Jones marathon and the new assorted six pack he'd handpicked chilling in his refrigerator were those five minutes.

That was, until the ADD sounded at minute four, and Becker resigned himself to what could be a very long night of chasing cretaceous creatures, or God forbid some hellish freak of evolution from the future.

"What have we got?" he asked, taking the stairs down to the main operations room at something close to a sprint. Because whatever they had on their hands,  _time_  was something they did not.

Connor, luckily, was already on it, rattling off the location of the anomaly – an old house, by all reports abandoned, outside the city – and checking for any reports of incursions before Abby even made it in from the lab. They mobilized quickly after that, the four of them in Becker's truck. With no reports of an incursion, they kept the team minimal personnel. No reason to draw attention to themselves without reason. He had men standing by should they need them.

It was a half hour to the site. Twenty minutes, with Danny driving, the lunatic. Becker got front seat, by way of paper, scissors, stones. By which he meant while Abby and Connor were playing, he seized the opportunity to nab the front. Juvenile? Maybe. Effective?

Clearly.

Of course, Connor griped about it the whole way, but Becker sort of tuned him out, only sparing him the odd glance in the rear-view to catch the faces he made. Some were...inventive. Eventually, though, he settled on a pout. Becker wondered if he did that because he thought it would actually work, pouting out his lip and scrunching his nose like that. It just made him look like a hare. And not a particularly intimidating one, at that.

It was when they pulled in that Becker frowned, and then, not because of anything Connor did. There were cars. Ten of them, by his count, all double-parked and caddy-cornered in front of the run-down old country house where the anomaly was detected.

"What the hell is this, then?" Danny said. Becker was already climbing out of the truck, making for the nearest of the cars and putting his hand to the bonnet.

His frown deepened. "Still warm. Whoever's car this is, they're still here."

Behind him, Connor glanced at Abby. "Bet you anything it's a free party?"

"A what?"

All eyes were suddenly on Danny. Even Becker's. For Christ's sake, he'd been in the desert dodging bullets and IED's for nearly a decade, and even he knew what Connor was talking about.

"A free party," Connor said, as if it was simply a question of hearing, and not of Danny's being born circa the nineteen sixty-nine. "Squat party?" he tried again when it didn't seem to ring any bells. "Rave? Genesis '88, the Acid House Parties?"

By then, Becker had shifted his gaze from Danny back to Connor, eyebrow arching. Sure, he knew what a free party was. He'd been to one or two, even. But he didn't know the history of the things. Vaguely, he wondered if Connor knew it from reading about it, or if there was more to him than late nights of D&D with the blokes.

"They're parties," Abby said eventually, cutting Connor off somewhere around the Anti-social Behaviours Act of 2003. He gaped a bit, but closed his mouth without a protest. Becker would've felt bad for him, if he didn't know how he could get: if Abby hadn't stopped him, they might've been there all night. And there was an anomaly that needed closing. "Illegal parties, usually in some sort of abandoned building."

Danny nodded. "Right, then. So, first things first. We need to get these people out of there, get the place cleared out. Becker, Abby, you two see to that. Connor and I'll track down the anomaly."

"Danny—" Becker started to argue, but Danny just flashed him a grin and took off running. Connor shot him a shrug, but didn't look altogether sorry for him as he took off running after him around back, anomaly locking mechanism in hand. He guessed he had it coming, after the paper scissors stone bit.

He turned back to Abby, barely containing an eye roll. "Let's get this over with."

"As quickly as possible," she agreed. She didn't look too happy about their little assignment, either, but the both of them knew better than to waste time whinging about it. Instead, Becker grabbed his Mossberg 590 from the back of the truck, and jogged off down the drive.

The bass hit him before the music did, a good ten metres from the actual building. When he shot a glance back at Abby, he could tell she'd noticed the same, and this time, he really did roll his eyes.

"This is going to be a bloody nightmare," Abby groaned.

"Seconded."

They both frowned and picked up again. They went in through the front door, careful despite the lack of any apparent danger. He'd have liked to think if something was wrong, there would be people running screaming from the place instead of the odd twenty-something stumbling out with a red cup in their hand and a green tint to their face, but with music that loud and people that inebriated, there was really no telling. So, they proceeded with caution, and Becker mournfully remembered the earplugs tucked away in his gear bag back in the truck.

"Should we say something to them?" Abby all but shouted over the music as they pushed their way inside. It wasn't too bad towards the foyer. Just the odd straggler, probably hoping to get away from the heat or the bodies or just take a breather for a bit. And then there was the couple all but having it out on the staircase. He cast them a disdainful look, but turned back to Abby with a shake of his head.

"It would take too long." Bloody hell, he could barely hear himself.

Abby sidestepped a stout-looking man that looked a gentle tap away from falling on his arse, then looked back at him. "So what do we do then?"

It was a fair question. When he peeked his head through the double doors into what he guessed might've been the entertaining room at one point or another in the massive, dilapidated building, he didn't even bother counting the heads. He couldn't. They were packed in like cattle, from wall to wall, all jumping and grinding on each other. He didn't venture to call it dancing.

There had to be a hundred of them, at least. He supposed some of them had taken taxis or carpooled, or else there were some cars around back they hadn't seen. Regardless, telling them one by one wasn't an option. Not just for their numbers, but because, as Abby found out when she tried to tell one of them to get out, they all seemed to have a bit of a problem with authority.

He pursed his lips a moment, looking around. When his eyes fell on the DJ booth, though, he had an idea. "Follow me."

Abby had a look like she didn't quite know what he was planning, but she followed him anyway. She kept close behind him. Probably for the best. Becker was having to elbow his way through the crowd, and while he didn't doubt Abby could've done it, it was a lot easier if she just rode his slipstream all the way through the sea of drunk and disorderlies to the DJ booth.

He didn't bother with an explanation, walked around the bar the DJ was using as his booth and pushed him bodily out of the way.

"Oi, the hell are you doing, mate?" he snapped. He was a little guy, barely any bigger than Abby. One look from Becker and a glance down at his tac gear, and the guy held his hands up. "I don't want any trouble."

Becker ignored him after that. He eyed the controller, found the source button and mashed it. A round of protests sounded when the music cut off, but he didn't give a rat's arse. Abby already had the mic, tapping it against her palm and waiting until he'd turned the volume up enough for it to cut through the din to speak.

"Everyone, you need to clear out."

More protests. Becker narrowed his eyes.

"There's been a gas leak." Becker nearly winced. Nobody ever bought that. Ever. He wasn't sure why they tried. "If you don't leave now, you could all be in danger."

"I don't smell any gas," said some green-haired wise guy at the front of the crowd. The people around him voiced their agreement.

The vein on the side of Abby's neck stood out a bit more. Becker had learned to look for it. They all had their little ticks. Abby had the vein, Connor did this thing with his mouth where he pulled the corners in, and Danny either half-smiled or was already in the process of decking you in the face.

"Turn the music back on!" someone in the back shouted. A few more people joined in, with various expressions and expletives.

It was when someone threw their cup – even if it missed – that Becker decided he'd had enough.

He took the mic from Abby. "This property is condemned, this party is illegal, and you're all in violation of the Anti-social Behaviour Act of 2003." He didn't know that, actually; but he figured either they didn't either, or they were too drunk to realize. "You have two options: see yourselves out, or my team will see you out." The pump of his shotgun was purely for effect.

That being said, it seemed to have the one he intended.

A few minutes later, when they ran into Connor and Danny in one of the upstairs bedrooms where the anomaly was, they both had funny looks. The anomaly was already locked, and since there were none of the telltale scratches on the floor or really any breaks in the sawdust and cobwebs besides what Connor and Danny seemed to have put there, it seemed safe to say there were no incursions.

"What's with those looks?" Abby asked.

Danny jabbed his thumb towards the window. "We just watched dozens of pissed partiers go tripping over themselves to their cars."

"Don't look at me." Abby nodded back at Becker. "Ask him."

Becker narrowed his eyes at her back. Throwing him under the bus. Although. "I just gave them some incentive to leave," he said in his own defence, then frowned almost thoughtfully. "I don't think everyone found it as funny as I did." He shrugged. No accounting for taste. Not his problem. "Nothing says 'party's over' like the sound of a pump action shotgun."

This time, it was all eyes on Becker. Only Connor was smiling. Laughing, actually, that silly little chuckle of his that warned of either an inappropriately-themed or inappropriately-timed joke. "Remind me to have you over next time me parents come to town," he said.

There were a lot of things Becker could have said to something like that – awfully roundabout way of asking Becker to meet the parents, that; or maybe, that he didn't need an excuse to have him over – but he just smiled and said the one least likely to sound like a come-on:

"I'll just bring my shotgun then, shall I?"

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos are my moon and stars.


End file.
